


Nothing Better

by keeperofthemoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And doesn't do that well with it, Draco comes up with a plan, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, I know, Sort Of, shocking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthemoon/pseuds/keeperofthemoon
Summary: Draco Malfoy is less than thrilled when his horrible best friend brings a fleabag kitten to his job and leaves him with it. His day only gets worse when Ginny Weasley, impolite and far too annoying, shows up and complicates the situation further.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of the two exchanges I did this summer! It was written for Rae, as part of the Draco/Ginny Forum Summer Fic Exchange on FFN. _Nothing Better_ won **“Best Chaptered Fic Overall”** and tied for **“Best Supporting Characters”**! There are really, really some amazing stories that were written for the exchange this year. Please, head over to FFN and look up my username (Keeperofthemoon0)—the D/G Forum link is in my profile. Anyway, at the end of the chapter, I’ll leave the prompt for the story! 
> 
> Many thanks, always, to Charlie, who was the beta for this story. Her guidance and critiques really helped me.

“What the hell are you doing, Parkinson?” 

As she often did, Pansy ignored Draco and continued doing as she pleased. Which was, at the moment, petting the—the _thing_ she had just put on his desk. The thing was a creature that was small and brown and far too fluffy, with big, watery brown eyes that kept watching Draco. It looked like some type of rodent. Draco leaned back in his seat, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the creature.

“If you don’t get that—that mouse off my desk, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Pansy asked coolly, lifting her eyes to look at Draco fully.

He glowered at her. She knew very well Draco couldn’t afford to act out, not _here_. He was at work, trying to look over contracts. If he embarrassed Gringotts by screaming at her, the goblins would surely fire him. 

Of course, Pansy would use that to her advantage.

Draco desperately needed some new friends.

“And it’s not a mouse, Draco. Honestly, did you listen at _all_ in Care of Magical Creatures?” 

“Of course not. Silly question. What is it, then?”

He asked the question out of hope that if he showed some interest in Pansy’s new pet, she’d be satisfied and leave. This wasn’t the first random thing Pansy had taken interest in, and Draco knew it wouldn’t be the last. Usually, however, Pansy didn’t barge into Gringotts to force Draco to pay attention to her new hobbies. 

The creature let out a loud mewling sound and Draco cringed. If someone heard that…

“A Kneazle. I found it in Knockturn Alley only a few minutes ago. Poor thing must’ve been abandoned.”

Draco’s lip curled in disgust. It was some sort of street cat? _That’s_ what Pansy decided to plop down on his desk, next to his very, _very_ important files for work? The thing probably had fleas! 

“Gringotts is not the proper place for a pet,” Draco said through clenched teeth. “Why did you bring it here?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Ah, yes. Wednesday. Wednesday was the one day each week that Pansy went back to her childhood home and tried to convince her mother to love her again. It was almost a joke at this point, since Pansy’s parents hadn’t spoken to her since the war. After the Ministry trials, her father had been thrown into a quaint cell next to Draco’s father in Azkaban, and her mother holed up in their house, shamed. The fact that Pansy had been acquitted of any wrongdoing and was allowed to keep a portion of her inheritance when the Ministry had taken almost everything from the Parkinsons for their contributions throughout the war had soured her relationship with her parents. 

Of course, the war had been nearly a decade ago.

Her parents could certainly hold a grudge.

“Take that blasted thing with you,” Draco said, waving his hand in the direction of the Kneazle. “I’ve no time for it.”

“I’m not ready to be a mother. I barely had a mother myself, and I can’t ruin this thing’s life like my mother ruined mine. It wouldn’t be fair. You need to take it.”

The creature meowed and Draco sneered.

“I don’t have time for this, Pansy. Take it.”

“I can’t. Theo is allergic.”

Merlin, help him. Draco inhaled deeply through his nose as he fought the urge to grab his wand and hex her. 

“What do I care if your roommate is allergic? Take it to the shop down the road. Drop it off with a little note begging for help.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, Draco,” Pansy half-cooed. She ran her hands through the Kneazle’s fur lovingly. “Kneazles are far too smart. If I were to run into it later in life, and it remembered me, that could spell bad news for me.”

“Have you had many issues running into pets you’ve abandoned?” Draco questioned, cocking his head. “Either way, this thing is not my problem. Get it off my desk before one of the goblins eats it.”

Despite the fact that the goblins he worked with rarely entered his office, Draco had high hopes that this threat would convince Pansy to take the creature and _go away_. He was up to his ears in paperwork; Draco was rather certain that the goblins purposely gave him useless work simply to keep him away from them—not that Draco wanted to talk to them, anyway. 

Honestly, Draco didn’t work _for_ them. Rather, he was supposed to help them negotiate arrangements with curse breakers around the globe. Curse breakers were individually contracted to Gringotts; otherwise, they could sell their services and anything they found to whomever they liked. Draco was supposed to keep both the goblins and curse breakers happy.

“Darling, this has been fun, but I have to go. You know what Wednesdays mean to me.”

“They mean you always end up at the manor or a pub, inexcusably drunk, irritating me or whoever else you force your company upon.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed, but that was the only sign that what he said had annoyed her. 

“Well then, I suppose it’s fine to meet you and him—” she pointed to the thing on Draco’s desk, “later tonight at your place. I expect a bottle of wine to be opened before I arrive.”

Before he could say anything, Pansy turned on her heel and headed out of his office. She slammed the door shut behind her. Draco rushed to his feet and ran to the door, yanking it open. He had hoped she’d be waiting outside, ready to laugh at his expression, but she wasn’t. No, he spotted her walking briskly towards the exit of Gringotts.

Draco held back a groan.

Now he was stuck with the rodent. Cat. Kneazle. Whatever. Leaning against the doorway, Draco tried to fight the panic rising in him. He’d be done work soon enough. Then he could take this thing back to the manor with him and lock it outside with the peacocks until Pansy showed up. She wasn’t planning on actually leaving him with it forever, right?

No, that would be far too cruel, even for Pansy.

Draco’s eyes skimmed the marble hall as his thoughts wandered. The goblins were stationed in their regular spots at the long counters, assisting customers and counting money. The clink of coins moving through their fingers echoed throughout the hall. It helped calm him. Gringotts had always fascinated Draco as a child. Now, years later, there was still a sort of wonder to it that working day in and day out didn’t ruin. 

A flash of red caught Draco’s attention and he straightened. It disappeared behind a pillar and Draco shifted in the doorway, trying to find it again.

Was it William Weasley? _Or,_ Draco though with a sneer, _Bill_ , as he kept telling Draco to call him.

Draco had been in direct contact with Bill for the past few weeks, trying to get the annoyingly stubborn man to sign a new contract with the curse breaking team he ran. Bill had been a curse breaker in Egypt and was held in high regard there. Now he handled the logistics for the team that was currently stationed in Egypt.

Perhaps the man was coming to talk to Draco. Maybe he had finally realized the contract Draco offered was the best he would receive. If that was so, Draco would certainly gain more respect around Gringotts. At the moment, the goblins looked down their long, pointy, bumpy noses at him as if _they_ were somehow better than him. Bill finally signing the contract would take a lot of stress off Draco’s shoulders—

But no. The figure that came out from behind the pillar, smiling at the goblin behind the counter, was certainly not Bill. It was Ginevra Weasley, the infuriatingly famous Quidditch player. 

Draco scowled and turned around, slamming his door behind him.

He stopped when his gaze fell on the Kneazle again. It had made itself at home atop a pile of new parchment on his desk. The parchment would surely be crinkled and unusable now. Probably would smell, too.

Inching towards the desk, Draco kept his eyes locked on the ball of fur. The Kneazle was incredibly small; did they always start out this little? Or was it undernourished? Pansy had said she found it in Knockturn Alley. There was a chance someone had dropped it off there, not wanting to take care of a runt. But Kneazles were expensive pets to buy and a sign of wealth in some parts of the world, so Draco couldn’t help but wonder who would leave the small thing to fend for itself.

Slowly, Draco sat back down in his seat. The Kneazle was still curled in on itself. Its chest rose and fell in long, steady breaths. It had fallen asleep.

Running a hand tiredly over his face, Draco leaned back in his chair. He really didn’t have time to deal with this thing. And if his mother found out he had brought a pet home, she’d be less than pleased, even if she was currently in France. What had Pansy been thinking? That she would rescue the thing and then drop it off with the person who wanted it least? 

Something caught Draco’s eye on his desk and he stilled, trying to figure out what he had seen. Then it happened once more. A tiny, black insect jumped high in the air before landing on his desk again. Was that—was that a _flea_?

“Bloody fuck!” Draco shouted, pushing away from his desk roughly. 

His chair tipped backwards and he crashed onto the floor. He heard the Kneazle let out a high-pitched screech before all the parchment on his desk went flying.

Fleas! Weren’t they—weren’t they some sort of parasite? They infested places! Draco briefly recalled his first year at Hogwarts when some Hufflepuff’s cat had fleas. The little bugs had overrun the Hufflepuffs’ common room. Was his office contaminated now? 

Draco brushed at himself, feeling incredibly itchy as he looked to see if any of the bugs were flying at him. He was going to _kill_ Pansy! She’d be the one paying for his office to be cleaned, not him! The goblins were never going to let him live this down! And how was he supposed to get that creature out of here without touching it? He was thoroughly fucked—

“Hello? Everything okay in here?”

The door to his office opened and Draco hurried to his feet. He quickly ran a hand through his hair as he lurched forward for his wand. 

“A minute, I need one minute—”

But the person had completely opened the door. Draco’s face flushed when he realized who it was.

“Merlin, Malfoy, what happened in here?”

Weasley. 

Her large eyes roamed over his office, her mouth parted in surprise. She was clutching an envelope to her chest as she walked in.

“Can’t knock, hmm? Just going to barge in without permission?” Draco snapped, finally locating his wand on the desk.

He tried to think of what spells to use that would straighten the fallen parchment and his toppled chair and kill all those fleas, but his mind was elsewhere. What if those bugs latched onto him? What if he brought them home to the manor? He’d have to burn everything. Everything!

“Bloody hell, I didn’t realize you were such a slob,” Weasley said, walking in further to continue peering around.

Draco huffed, his cheeks growing warmer. 

“Why are you here—” 

His words were drowned out by a loud, high-pitched cry. Draco flinched at the sound as Weasley shrieked, jumping back and slamming into the door behind her. The door shut as she fell against it. Something bolted towards Draco and he stared in surprise when he realized what it was. 

The Kneazle.

“What the hell was that?!” Weasley screamed, eyes wide and hair wild. “You have rodents in here? That’s disgusting!”

“I don’t live in a barn! It’s my—my—” Draco bent and picked up the small, whimpering creature. “It’s my pet! You tried to kill my pet, you wench!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

But his words had had some sort of calming effect on Weasley, for she straightened, pushing her hair from her face. She stared at him.

“You heard me! You barge into my office, then trample my pet, and then try to tell me I have rodents! You have some nerve!”

Weasley hesitantly stepped closer.

“You don’t have any other animals hiding in this mess, do you?” she asked cautiously.

Draco sneered. 

“Why are you here?”

Weasley blinked. Abruptly, her expression hardened, as though she remembered who she was talking to. 

“My brother knew I was stopping by Gringotts and asked me to give this to you.” She lifted the envelope in her hand so he could see. Then, her voice softened. “Is he okay?”

“How should I know? He’s your brother.” 

Weasley stared at him for a second before rolling her eyes. 

“I can’t tell if you’re serious or not. I meant your pet. Is he okay? Did I hurt him?”

For a moment, Draco had forgotten about the shaking creature in his hands. He frowned as he looked down at it. Other than being startled, the creature seemed fine. But… had his tail been bent that way before? Draco couldn’t be too sure.

“I think you might’ve broken his tail with your large feet.”

Weasley glared at him but there was no heat behind it.

“I didn’t mean to! Look, we can take him down to the Magical Menagerie. They’ll have someone there who can look over him. I’ll cover the cost if he’s hurt.”

Draco glared back at her. If the goblins saw him leaving his office holding this thing, they’d surely question him about it. And he couldn’t stuff it in his cloak, not now that he knew it had fleas. Grabbing said cloak, Draco put it on and clasped it around his neck with his free hand. Then he walked up to Weasley and held out the Kneazle to her. 

Her eyebrows rose. 

“What? Why are you—”

“Hold him for me, will you? And give me that envelope from your brother. I need to grab some… some of this parchment to take home with me tonight.”

Draco looked around helplessly. His office was an absolute mess. Weasley distracted him, though, by taking the creature from his hands and giving him the envelope. She must’ve been feeling particularly guilty, for she didn’t have anything to say about his orders.

Shoving the envelope into his cloak pocket, Draco walked around his office, grabbing whatever pieces of parchment he thought he’d need to bring home. He’d clean the rest of his office in the morning. He walked briskly towards Weasley.

“Care to move so we can go?” he snapped when she didn’t step out of his way.

Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing, stepping aside for him. Draco opened the door and walked out, not bothering to check if she was behind him. The familiar noise of Gringotts relaxed him once more as he headed to the exit. None of the goblins seemed to pay him any mind. 

Pansy was going to pay for this. None of this would have happened if she had left the thing in Knockturn Alley. Of course, she’d probably blame him for the fact that the creature had gotten hurt within the first half hour it was left with Draco. But that wasn’t his fault either! If that stupid Weasley girl hadn’t come into his office uninvited, he would’ve been able to hide the fleabag and Weasley would’ve been none the wiser.

“Malfoy! What’s his name?”

Draco turned, surprised at Weasley’s loud tone.

“Why are you yelling?” 

“Because I’ve been asking you repeatedly for his name and you’ve been ignoring me,” she growled.

He scoffed. 

“I should get an award, then. I’m not sure many could properly ignore such a shrill voice.”

She didn’t respond to his insult, instead lifting her eyebrows as she waited for the answer. Draco frowned. He didn’t have a name for the creature. He couldn’t tell her that or else she’d realize it wasn’t his pet. He wasn’t sure what the consequences of that would be, but he didn’t want to find out.

Without any thought at all, he responded.

“Mouse.”

“Mouse?” she repeated doubtfully.

Weasley looked down at the little thing in her hands as they exited Gringotts. 

“I guess I did think it was some sort of rodent when I first came in…” she said, shrugging.

Draco scowled.

~*~

Its tail was broken. The woman who ran the store, Ms. Libby Smith, had looked over the Kneazle with a fond smile before declaring that Weasley had managed to break his tail. Weasley looked rightfully abashed, apologizing profusely to the Kneazle for a solid five minutes before Draco told her to shut up and stop talking to his pet.

“Looks undernourished too, for such a young thing. Could be why his tail broke so easily,” Smith said, as she placed several potions on the counter. “He also has fleas.”

_I knew it!_

Draco resisted the urge to scratch himself as he glared at the fleabag on the counter.

“But I gave him a potion for that, which will deal with them quickly. Where’d you buy him?”

Noting the look Smith gave him, Draco frowned. What, exactly, was she trying to accuse him of?

“I found him in an alley,” Draco lied sharply. “Only two nights ago. I hadn’t any time to come here so I’ve been bringing him to work with me.”

“You’ll need to get him registered at the Ministry, then, love. They like to keep track of anyone who owns a Kneazle. Might even be able to find out who abandoned him, if they properly registered his parents. I’ll have to send the Ministry a letter that you brought him in here; they give about a week before they’ll send notices or fines. There’s also a chance he’s the offspring of a Kneazle and a regular cat, which would make him only a half-Kneazle, but I’m not sure yet. He’s still too young to tell.” 

Weasley made an excited sound at that. Smith continued speaking.

“Either way, here’s some nourishment tonics for Mouse. He’ll need a lot of care over the next few weeks, between his tail and getting him to his correct weight. I hope you’ll have enough time for it. If not, you might want to think about leaving him here with us.”

Tilting his head, Draco thought about what she was offering. It would get Mouse off his hands. Pansy wouldn’t continue bothering him over the thing. And he wouldn’t have to worry about fleas…

“I am rather busy. I wasn’t expecting to deal with a broken tail, either,” he replied, pointedly frowning at Weasley.

Her face flushed unpleasantly.

“That’s fine,” Smith told him, reaching under the counter to pull out some pieces of parchment. “If you sign here, I can—”

“No, look, okay,” Weasley interrupted, her cheeks becoming redder as she turned her full attention to Draco. “I’ll take him to the Burrow and my parents and I can help take care of him. I hate the idea of leaving him here.”

Smith’s eyes narrowed.

“No offense!” Weasley cried out, realizing the insult. “It’s, just, you know, Malfoy found him and Mouse deserves full attention as he heals and my mum is really quite nurturing, she enjoys nursing things back to health, and she has plenty of time on her hands now that I’m the only one living at home—”

As Weasley rambled on, an idea began to form in Draco’s head. He needed to get Weasley’s older brother to sign the contract Draco had for him. But Bill wouldn’t. Maybe by hanging out with the youngest Weasley, he’d learn enough about the eldest Weasley to convince him to sign the bloody contract so that Draco didn’t have to think about _any_ Weasleys anymore.

This could be his opportunity, his moment. This could get him the respect he deserved at Gringotts. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco cut Weasley’s ramble short. 

“Attempted murder and now theft.”

She blinked in surprise, her mouth hanging open. Then she collected herself, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“What?” 

“You heard me. First you try to murder Mouse, stepping on him and leaving him to suffer, and now you’re trying to steal him from me!”

“I did _not_ leave him to suffer!” Weasley snapped. 

Smith let out a long sigh before putting the papers back under the counter. Mouse inched his way over to where Draco’s hand sat on the countertop. Draco almost jumped when he felt the furball press against him.

Surprise and uncertainty fought for dominance on Weasley’s face, her eyes drawn to Mouse nuzzling Draco’s hand. 

“I’m not trying to steal your pet, Malfoy.” Her tone was gentle. 

“Certainly seems that way to me. Doesn’t it?” 

Draco turned, hoping Ms. Libby Smith would be able to help prove his point, but she was gone. Instead, a young boy manned the register, looking worriedly between the pair. 

“Were you going to buy all this, then?” the cashier hesitantly inquired.

Draco ignored him as Weasley offered the boy a smile that was far nicer than any expression she sent his way. Then, she looked back at Draco, her smile falling.

“I don’t know how else I can help,” she told him through gritted teeth.

“Perhaps, next time knock before you enter someone’s office.”

Her eyes blazed as she stared at him. It was clear she was trying not to hex him. Remembering the curse she shot his way fifth year, Draco took a tiny step back. 

He was _not_ in the mood to have giant bogeys fly from his nostrils. 

“How about I buy all of this and I’ll… I’ll send an owl to make sure Mouse has started to heal in a few days. You won’t have to deal with me at all. If you want to leave him here, that’s fine. I was only trying to help—a concept, I’m sure, that is foreign to you.”

“You can stay with me.”

Normally cool under pressure, Draco was dismayed to feel warmth flood his face. Weasley opened her mouth to respond then closed it again.

“I don’t have time to sit around and fix your mistake,” he elaborated, trying to remain collected. “The Manor has more than enough room.”

“I’m not staying at your house. Th—that’s mad.” She took a deep breath. Mouse let out a pitiful mewl, almost perfect timing. “Why would you get a Kneazle if you didn’t have time for it?”

Draco’s lip curled.

“I found it, Weasley, remember? I was trying to _help_ it.”

She frowned but he saw some cracks in her conviction. 

“How about I’ll come around whenever I need to give him the potions,” Weasley offered slowly.

They stared at each other.

“About once a day, then,” the cashier said, looking over the potions on the counter.

“Once a day, I’ll come over and give Mouse his potions. Does that work?”

It wasn’t like Draco actually wanted Weasley to live at his house. His mother would likely throw him from the balcony if she found out he let a Weasley sleep in one of his ancestor’s bedrooms. This was certainly a better arrangement. 

Draco nodded.

“Okay.” Weasley turned back to the cashier. “I’ll buy all of this. Can you get me instructions for each of the potions, too? Thanks.”

Once the cashier finished ringing up all the items and putting them into a bag, Weasley grabbed the bag and shoved it into Draco’s chest. The impact almost made him lose his breath. Merlin, she was strong.

“Abusive wench,” he hissed.

“See you tomorrow, Malfoy.”

Weasley gave Mouse a pat on the head before heading out. When she was out of view, Draco turned to the cashier. 

“I need whatever food this thing eats owled to my manor. And you’re sure it doesn’t have fleas any longer? Also, I need something to keep him in.”

The cashier stared at him.

“Are you deaf?” Draco snarled. “Hurry up!”

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

A knocking on his bedroom door stirred Draco from his sleep.

For fuck’s sake, could he get no peace and quiet in his own house? 

Groaning, Draco flipped onto his side and covered his ears with his hands. But the sudden movement made something on his chest shift. The blanket, maybe? But no, he heard purring. Draco’s eyes jolted open the same moment someone walked into his bedroom. 

“You’ve got mail, Draco.”

“Goyle, what’s the point of knocking if you’re just going to enter anyway?” Draco snapped.

Gregory shrugged but didn’t stop walking further into Draco’s room. He tossed two letters onto the bedside table as he looked Draco over.

“You let him sleep with you?”

Draco rubbed his eyes as he sat up in bed.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, not bothering to keep the irritation from his voice.

Gregory pointed at the bed and Draco glanced down. He barely held back a shout. The bloody Kneazle was in bed with him! Mouse opened his eyes and let out a sleepy meow as Draco scrambled off of the bed. His legs were tangled in the sheets and he almost tripped. Angrily, he kicked them off.

“That was nice of you,” Gregory said.

“I did _not_ let it sleep with me,” Draco hissed, turning to look at the kennel he had bought from the store.

The door was wide open. Did the Kneazle know how to use _Alohomora_? Draco knew he should’ve left the thing outside last night with the peacocks but Pansy and Gregory had both made such a huge fuss about it that Draco knew he wouldn’t get a decent night’s sleep if he didn’t bring Mouse into his room with him. But Draco had definitely left it in the kennel.

Glaring at the creature, Draco folded his arms across his chest. 

“He must’ve escaped somehow. Bloody Pansy. Is she still here somewhere? I’m making her take it with her when she leaves.”

“She’s out by the gardens having breakfast.”

Once Gregory left his room, Draco stomped over to the two envelopes he had received. The first letter was from his mother, detailing her last week in France. Draco skimmed it before tossing it aside. He’d get around to writing her back after work. Unfamiliar writing addressed him on the second envelope. Barely fighting a scowl, he opened it.

As he suspected, it was the youngest Weasley who had owled him. She’d be over before dinner. Perfect. Surely, she was only arriving then to ensure he lost his appetite. 

Draco crumpled the letter. He hoped his idea of making Weasley stop by the manor every day to take care of the rodent would be worth it. After reading the letter Bill delivered to him yesterday, Draco realized he needed all the help he could get. Bill had been very apologetic while telling Draco that he had no intention of signing the latest contract that had been drawn up. _There needs to be more given to the curse breakers_ , Bill had written him. _This isn’t enough. You need to do better._

Isn’t enough? Need to do better? Didn’t Bill realize that they were getting a far grander deal than any of the other curse breakers with whom Draco had written contracts? If the youngest Weasley wasn’t able to help him, his career would be in serious trouble. 

Already in a foul mood, Draco yanked his silk robe off the hanger and tugged it on before stomping out of his room. After taking the hike through the manor, Draco burst through the French doors to find Pansy, Gregory, and—damnit—Theo sitting around a table outside. Theo glanced up at him, a thin smile stretched across his lips, as Pansy let out a loud sigh. 

“Must you have woken him, Gregory?”

“His mother wrote him. It could’ve been important.”

“Honestly, Goyle, if it was important, Mrs. Malfoy would have made her way home already,” Theo reasoned. “She doesn’t trust the Ministry enough to deliver crucial information by owl.”

Draco scowled.

“I’d like you to stop inviting yourself over, Nott,” Draco said as he sat in the only empty seat left at the table. 

“Pansy invites herself over all the time.”

“Only when my mother denies me her love,” Pansy sighed again. “Otherwise, I avoid visiting this place. Nothing to do with you, Gregory, it’s because of Draco. Especially when he wakes up in such a mood.”

Reaching over, Draco grabbed the mug of coffee from in front of Pansy. He took a sip of it and grimaced—far too sweet.

“I’m only in this mood because of you,” Draco grumbled, glaring at Pansy. 

“What did I do now?”

“You gave me that stupid animal.”

“You gave Malfoy an _animal_?” Theo asked. “Are you mad?”

“You mean _this_ stupid animal?” 

Gregory lifted his hand up to show the bloody Kneazle he was holding by the scruff. Draco stared at it before looking back at the French doors. They were open a crack. Had Mouse followed him? After a second, Gregory returned Mouse to his lap, where the creature had earlier taken up residence. 

“Yes, that one, sneaky bugger.” Draco waved his hand in Mouse’s direction. “If you hadn’t left it with me, Weasley wouldn’t have stepped on it, and I wouldn’t be making her come help me take care of it.”

Pansy scoffed, lowering her sunglasses so she could properly glower at him. Draco noted the dark bags under her eyes and his frown softened. 

“Yes Pansy, all your fault,” Theo agreed, grinning wickedly. “Despite the fact that Draco has plenty of house-elves, Weasley was his only option to take care of that thing. Or even you, Greg! You could’ve helped him!”

“I’m not Draco’s servant, I’m his roommate,” Gregory said, shrugging. Long gone were the days when Gregory did as Draco pleased. “And his name is Mouse, not _thing_.”

Draco rubbed his face tiredly. Gregory had been at the manor already when Draco returned with Mouse the night before. He seemed rather taken with the cat.

“I can’t believe you named it Mouse. It looks more like a…a Herman or a Lucifer,” Pansy observed.

Draco resisted the urge to inform Pansy that she had said the same thing when she showed up to the manor last night, drunk and swaying. 

“I like the name,” Gregory said. “Simple. Easy. If it runs away, no one will believe that Draco named his pet Mouse. He’ll be able to get rid of it.”

“Good point, Goyle,” Draco agreed. “We’re straying from the topic, however.”

“Oh, really?” 

Pansy reached over as she spoke, taking her coffee back. Draco let her with no fight. Honestly, she must dump at least four spoonfuls of sugar into it. That couldn’t be healthy. Once one of the bloody house-elves came back out, he’d get a fresh cup.

“Yes, really. Listen to me. The only reason I’m making Weasley help me with this thing is because—”

“You can’t keep a plant alive, much less a magical creature?” Theo asked.

Pansy and Goyle started snickering as Draco’s face grew warm. Theo looked overly smug.

Draco hated them. He hated them all. 

“ _Shut up_ ,” he hissed. “I need to get this contract with her brother signed. I don’t understand him, though. Everything I do seems to be… wrong. I’ve never had an issue like this before. He says the deal isn’t good enough for him, when I _know_ it is. It’s the best deal we’ve presented to anyone! However, if I can learn how to deal with Weasley number—how many are there?”

Goyle shrugged.

“If I learn how to deal with the youngest, then surely I can learn how to deal with the eldest.”

“Solid idea,” Theo told him sarcastically. “Because every sibling is exactly the same.”

“What would you know? You have no siblings,” Draco snapped.

“None of us do,” Pansy pointed out. “But Daphne and Astoria are nothing alike, Draco. You’ve met them both, you know this.”

“The Greengrass sisters are of much higher quality than the Weasley brood. They can afford individual personalities.”

Silence fell over the group. Draco looked over the grounds, frowning. He’d have to get to work soon, which meant he’d have to let the goblins know that Bill hadn’t agreed to the newest contract. 

This was going to be quite the day.

~*~

Mouse wouldn’t stop following him around.

When Draco had left for Gringotts, it had taken Gregory distracting the Kneazle with bubbles from his wand for Draco to sneak away. Merlin, was this what it was like having a child? Narcissa had always said that, as a baby, Draco enjoyed his mother’s attention so much that he’d trail her from room to room, never letting her get anything done.

When Draco had returned home from work, Mouse had been napping on Gregory’s chest as he flipped through the _Daily Prophet_. But as soon as the kitten had awakened, he had bolted off Gregory’s chest and followed Draco around the manor. Now in the study Mouse was still bothering him, swatting at the parchment on his desk as Draco attempted to look it over. No matter how many times Draco put Mouse on the floor, the bloody thing managed to climb his way back up without Draco noticing until it was already messing with something. 

“Stop, you annoying pest!”

Draco yanked the parchment that Mouse was playing with away from him and put it on the other side of the desk. The kitten blinked at him but seemed unbothered by his tone, instead beginning to clean itself. Muttering under his breath, Draco continued skimming the contract before him. He had opted to not tell the goblins that the contract had fallen through when he got to work, instead pretending all was well. There had to be something he could do that would please Bill. If he went to the goblins asking for money they’d laugh him out of Gringotts. Where else could he compromise? The curse breakers received sick days, time off… Perhaps travel expenses could be compensated? Though, that still meant more money. It all came back to money— 

“Thanks for that, Goyle.”

Draco looked up, startled by the new voice in the room. 

It was Weasley.

She lingered in the doorway, lips pursing with displeasure when their eyes met. Draco held back a groan. Merlin, the day had been long enough already. He almost wished she had forgotten that she was supposed to come by.

Frowning, Draco stood from his desk.

“How’d you get in here?”

“I knocked. Goyle answered.” Weasley paused. “Is he your butler or something?”

Butler? Goyle wouldn’t be pleased to hear that. For the first time that day, amusement flitted through Draco. He almost smirked but held it back.

“I have no need for a butler, Weasley.”

“It’s just that he followed you around Hogwarts all the time, so I assumed...”

“He lives here with me and Mother.”

Shock colored her face. It was a reaction Draco was used to, ever since Gregory had moved into the manor after Hogwarts. Gregory’s mother had died long ago, Crabbe had died in the blaze in the Room of Requirement, and Gregory’s father had died sometime during the final battle. The Ministry had seized the Goyles’ assets, even though his father had perished, punishing Gregory even though he had already been punished enough. He had no money and no family. Draco was the only familiar thing left for Gregory. But Draco didn’t offer her further explanation, instead letting his gaze drift over her. 

“I’d say it was a pleasure to see you but I’d be lying.”

“Very clever, Malfoy,” Weasley said, cautiously walking further into the room. “Where’s Mouse?”

Draco didn’t reply, instead watching her with interest. Back at Hogwarts, she had always managed to capture Draco’s attention whenever she was near. Weasley was an annoying thing—pretty but rash, talented but stubborn, a pureblood but a Muggle lover. If she had been born to any other family, or sorted into a different house, Draco knew his curiosity would’ve gotten the better of him when he was still in school. 

Part of what caught Draco’s attention back then was her unwavering confidence, something that Draco had severely lacked in his last two years at school. Whether she was right or wrong, she believed in herself and her loved ones with such striking conviction that it made all those who disagreed with her falter. But now Weasley seemed nervous. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something. When one of the logs in the fireplace popped, she jumped. 

Draco leaned against the desk and cocked his head. 

“He’s not lurking in any corners,” he informed her.

Weasley glanced at him, her eyes wide. His voice seemed to bring her back to reality, for the tightness in her lips lessened.

“Mouse?” she asked. 

“The Dark Lord.”

She stopped walking abruptly. 

Ah, so he had assumed correctly. Weasley was afraid of Malfoy Manor. So much for the brave heroes who had won the war.

“He moved out years ago,” Draco continued as he picked Mouse up from on top of his desk—the cat had started fiddling with his parchment again—and strode towards Weasley. “Courtesy of Scarhead and his faithful sidekicks. Give them my thanks, will you?”

He reached her as he finished speaking, an amused smirk twisting his lips. She was a tiny thing, Draco realized as he looked down at her. His eyes traced over her face, hoping to see that his words had bothered her. But instead of being angry or worried, Weasley seemed curious. 

“One of my best friends was locked up in the dungeons below your manor for months. It’s a little hard for me to be here without thinking about that,” she told him.

His smirk faltered.

“Yes, well, try living here,” Draco said blankly as he shoved Mouse at her.

Mouse mewled as Weasley took hold of him. 

Draco could feel her eyes on him as he walked back to his desk. He ignored her, sitting in his seat and turning his attention back to the parchment. After a moment, she walked across the study. He tried not to look up but, annoyingly, she decided to station herself directly in front of his desk. No matter how hard Draco stared down at the contract, the bright yellow of her shirt drew his eyes. Sneering, he lifted his head so their gazes met.

“Yes?”

“I need the potions that you have, in order to give them to Mouse.”

Wordlessly, he pointed to the table beside the hearth, where the potions were lined up in a neat row. Weasley glanced at them before heading that way. Draco watched her kneel beside the bottles, Mouse comfortably in her lap, as she looked over them.

He focused on the contract once more.

“Did you name Alabaster too?”

Draco froze. How the hell did Weasley know that name? 

He glanced up and noted the glee on her face as she fed Mouse the first potion. Gregory must’ve told her when he let her into the manor. How many times did Draco have to tell Gregory to stop willingly giving strangers information when they stopped by—even if it was only the name of Lucius’ peacock?

“What makes you think I named Mouse?” he asked, avoiding the question.

“Well, you found him. And I don’t imagine you allow other people to name your pets. You don’t seem the sharing type,” she said, grinning cheekily as she glanced over at him. “He does look rather like a rodent, though. I had thought he was a mouse in your messy office, which is ironic, since he’s actually a feline. Kneazles grow quickly, so I doubt he’ll keep looking so scrawny for long. Unless he’s mixed, like Libby said.” 

“Been reading up on Kneazles, have you?”

“Or I actually paid attention in Care of Magical Creatures,” she retorted.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. Weasley didn’t seem to notice as she continued feeding Mouse his potions. Mouse was eagerly lapping up the liquid.

“Maybe if that oaf of a professor had been qualified to teach, I’d know more about Kneazles.”

“If you didn’t know anything about them, why would you keep one as a pet?” Weasley replied smoothly, arching her eyebrows as she turned her attention on him again. 

Gripping his quill so tightly it was ready to snap, Draco glared at her. 

“I didn’t think I had to research how to heal a Kneazle after a clumsy wench trampled him. And, if you’d be so kind to recall, it wasn’t as though I was out searching for a pet to bring home. The thing hasn’t left me alone since I spotted it.”

Which was basically true, because Mouse _hadn’t_ left Draco alone since Pansy brought him to Gringotts. Weasley didn’t know the true story, though, and Draco intended to keep it that way. Resisting the urge to say more, or to taunt her further, Draco remained silent as his words lingered between them. 

Weasley stared at him for a long moment before looking away, continuing to give Mouse his potions. Draco turned his attention back to the contract. They sat in silence, though Draco found it hard to concentrate. The silence wasn’t strained, though Draco wasn’t sure he’d view it as comfortable. His eyes kept lifting, checking on her, as though making sure she hadn’t disappeared. It was very odd, having a Weasley in Malfoy Manor. His mother would simply die if she knew who was sitting on her great-grandmother’s rug—a Black heirloom, Narcissa always reminded Draco. A Black heirloom that a Weasley was now dirtying.

He smirked.

It wasn’t that Draco liked knowing how bothered Narcissa would be by what was occurring right now. He loved his mother and knew more certainly than anything else that she loved him too. Narcissa simply hadn’t been home for more than a week in years. His father being thrown in Azkaban had shamed her so horribly that she had fled England. She had asked Draco to go with her once. When he said no, she hadn’t asked again. The manor seemed more Draco’s home now than hers.

Weasley stood abruptly, startling Draco from his thoughts. Mouse was resting comfortably in her arms as she walked towards the desk. There was an odd expression on her face; Draco wasn’t sure what to make of it. Normally, Weasley was scowling or yelling at him. He watched, curious. When she reached his desk, she held Mouse out for Draco to take. He grabbed the kitten from her and put it back on his desk. Mouse circled in the spot several times before laying down, curling comfortably into a ball. The only sounds in the room were the fire in the hearth and the contented purrs of the Kneazle.

Draco wasn’t sure what Weasley was doing. Was he supposed to say something? Did she expect a tip? If she thought he’d pay her for this, she had another thing coming—

“My name is Ginny,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

He blinked.

“Would you like an award or something?” he questioned slowly.

She rolled her eyes.

“Look, I’m going to be coming by here every day and I don’t—this doesn’t—argh, it doesn’t have to be some weird thing between us. I’m going to help Mouse, you can keep going about your day, and we don’t have to, I don’t know, hate each other. Does that make sense?”

He straightened in his seat, maintaining eye contact with her. Draco hadn’t expected her kindness to come so… _effortlessly_. As his friends often liked to remind him, Draco wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. If Weasley was extending a hand of… not friendship, surely, but goodwill perhaps, he couldn’t afford say no to it. It seemed possible that his plan had potential. 

“Don’t expect me to let you sleep over,” Draco drawled, leaning back in his seat.

Her eyebrows lifted.

“You were the one who had wanted me to stay here to take care of Mouse,” she reminded him.

“Momentary lapse of judgement.”

“Yeah, clearly.” Her lips twitched into a slight smile. “So, you think you can forgo the insults for about half an hour every day? I know how difficult that will be for you, but I have faith in you, Malfoy. It’s been years since Hogwarts—” 

“Draco.”

Surprise flitted across her face at his interruption.

“Draco,” she said slowly.

It was strange giving someone he had once wanted to push into a pit of venomous snakes permission to address him by his first name. It was even stranger hearing his name fall from her lips, as though she were testing it, tasting it, trying it. Draco inhaled sharply. He watched her bite her bottom lip gently. Was she trying to decide if she liked how it sounded?

“See you tomorrow,” Weasley—no, Ginny—said. “Bye Mouse.”

Ginny reached over and petted Mouse gently before turning and heading out of the study. Draco watched her go, a smirk forming on his lips. What a pleasant surprise. 

~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely beta helped form the lovely line --“The Greengrass sisters are of much higher quality than the Weasley brood. They can afford individual personalities.”-- and deserves credit for its hilarity! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Draco’s eyes hurt as he stared down at the book on his desk. He was tired and annoyed. The more he listened to Ginny laugh at the creature who had caused him this discomfort, the more he felt ready to explode.

For the third night in a row, Draco had tried to get Mouse to stay in his bloody kennel. It seemed no matter what Draco did, the animal managed to escape and end up in bed with him. No spell worked. No threats from Draco worked, either—and Draco was convinced that Mouse knew what he was saying. Even Spello-tape wrapped around the cage several times couldn’t keep it in. Draco didn’t feel guilty for his outrageous attempts at confining Mouse. He _needed_ his sleep and the last thing he wanted was for the street cat to get used to sleeping in _Draco’s_ bed.

Mouse didn’t care about Draco’s efforts, however.

The night before, Draco had jumped out of bed, kitten in hand, a total of ten times. The last time he had awoken to Mouse snuggled on his chest, Draco had seen that the sun had risen and he’d have to leave for work soon. He’d given up.

Not tonight, though! He refused to sleep with that thing another night! After work, Draco had stopped at the Magical Menagerie and spoken to the shop owner, Libby Smith, about how to stop Mouse from escaping his confines. She had laughed at him—directly in his face!—before wishing him the best of luck and telling him to bring the kitten by within the week so she could check on his progress. Afterward, he had stopped at Flourish and Blotts, picking up several books on Kneazles.

But the words were blurred as Draco tried to read through the third book. The first two had been no help. _Kneazles are mischievous, independent, and intelligent,_ the books had said. While Draco knew for a fact that Mouse was not independent, for the ridiculous thing followed Draco around everywhere, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that the Kneazle was very smart and playful. There had to be some way to stop Mouse from escaping the kennel, though. Draco wasn’t going to be subjected to this forever, right?

Right?

“Are you okay?”

Draco looked up from the book, meeting Ginny’s gaze. Mouse had climbed onto her shoulder like some sort of bird and was licking her cheek. He almost sneered but found he didn’t have the energy. Then, realizing what she had asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

She shrugged before grabbing Mouse from her shoulder. As she put him on top of Draco’s desk, Ginny peered at him. 

“You’ve gradually become less annoying the past few days,” she told him.

He lifted his chin. 

“You asked me to be nice to you!” 

“You’re not being _nice_ ,” Ginny explained, waving her hands as she spoke. “You sort of remind me of…” 

She trailed off. Draco stared at her, becoming more and more agitated the longer she took to complete her sentence. Ginny had been visiting, more or less on time, the past three days and everything had been generally fine between them. They greeted each other, exchanged insults that lacked any real heat, she dealt with Mouse while he continued working, then she’d leave. 

This was the first time she had stopped and really talked to him. There was something genuine in her inquiry that Draco wasn’t used to. The only other times she had been genuine with him were when she insulted him, calling him an annoying prat.

“Get on with it,” Draco snapped.

“You look like Hermione when she’s been up for a week working on legislation for the Ministry.” She waved at his face, as if that was proof enough.

“Granger? I look like _Granger_?” he choked out, stricken. 

“Blood shot eyes, wild hair—” 

Draco patted his head and was dismayed to find strands of hair loose, rather than gelled smooth. 

“—reeking of coffee, jittery—”

“I get it, I look like Granger! It’s this thing’s fault!” He pointed at Mouse, who was currently playing with the feathered end of his quills while sitting on Draco’s open book. “He won’t sleep in his cage, the bloody monster! I’m waking up at all hours finding him in my bed. Do you realize how expensive those sheets were? This creature essentially lives here for free and shows me absolutely no respect, as if I didn’t rescue him from a life on the streets!”

Draco stopped at the sight of Ginny’s expression, his chest rising and falling quickly due to his rant. Ginny continued staring at him, wide-eyed, though there was something akin to amusement tugging at her lips. 

“You seem to be bonding well with Mouse,” she observed. 

He scowled.

“I’ll try to figure out something to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Draco grumbled before yawning widely. 

He covered his mouth in horror as her eyebrows lifted. She started walking towards the exit. 

“Of course you don’t,” Ginny said with a smirk before pushing open the study doors and leaving Draco alone with Mouse.

~*~

His head roared with a headache that had been lingering all day. Draco rubbed tiredly at his forehead where it was throbbing, dropping his cloak by the front door with little care. A house-elf could pick it up for him. Right now, he needed a cup of coffee to help keep him awake long enough to look over the pile of letters in his study. The pain seemed to worsen at that thought and Draco grimaced.

Coffee might not be the best idea. Water was what he should drink; he was likely dehydrated from consuming so much coffee already throughout the day. There had been a later-than-normal meeting and he hadn’t wanted to seem tired. But Mouse was still sneaking out of his kennel and Draco was beginning to fear that he was truly starting to look like Granger—a thought that frightened him more than anything—and he had been more frazzled at the meeting than ever before. The goblins likely thought he was on some type of Muggle drug.

Draco paused.

He hadn’t even realized he had entered the kitchen and had begun thoughtlessly searching for his bottle of scotch in the cabinets. Merlin, he needed some rest. Shutting the cabinet door, Draco turned and let out a startled cry. 

At the table sat Gregory and Ginny. Mouse was napping in Goyle’s lap.

“My God, do you two do this often?” Draco snapped. “What are you doing here? What, exactly, am I witnessing?” 

As he spoke, Draco pulled out his pocket watch, looking at the time. Then, he lifted his eyes and found Ginny watching him. She held a cup of tea to her lips, though that seemed to be an attempt to help her hold back her laughter. He felt his face grow warm.

“You were late coming home from work,” Gregory said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I asked her if she wanted tea when she was done giving Mouse his medicine.”

“It was very nice of him,” Ginny told Draco. “You’ve never offered me tea before.”

“I didn’t realize that was a requirement of our arrangement,” Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

Gregory frowned. Mouse opened his eyes at Draco’s voice and jumped from Gregory’s lap.

“You look tired, Draco.”

“You’re very observant, Goyle.”

“I’m only saying you might need some rest—”

Draco didn’t let Gregory finish, instead storming out of the kitchen. He heard Mouse’s soft footsteps as the kitten followed him. Though he desperately needed to go through the letters on his desk, he found himself heading to his bedroom. 

He didn’t bother putting Mouse in the cage as he flopped onto his bed.

~*~

“You’re looking better,” Ginny said by way of greeting, strolling past him and towards the potions.

Mouse jumped off the desk without prompting and walked over to Ginny. Draco scowled.

“I wear defeat well, I suppose.” She looked at him in confusion and he explained further. “I have given up. Mouse wins. If him sleeping in bed with me is what needs to occur for me to also get sleep, then so be it.”

Ginny’s mouth quirked up at his dramatic tone and he found his lips twitching into a smile also. He forced it away, instead leaning back in his chair and watching her as she started on the potions.

“I asked Hermione what Crookshanks is like to sleep with, to see if she had any advice. But she got Crookshanks when he was much older than Mouse, so she wasn’t sure anything she could recommend would actually work with Mouse. Ron said he just kicks Crookshanks out of their room, but I have a feeling he was lying, if Hermione’s face was any indication. Ron loves that cat, which is rather funny, because he hated Crookshanks when Hermione first got him. Though, I mean, who knew Ron and Hermione would end up married.”

She seemed to have forgotten whom she was talking to. Ginny’s tone was light, friendly, and Draco found himself struck silent by the change. Her focus was on Mouse, allowing Draco time to gather his thoughts on the difference between their normal banter and this conversation. 

He had almost forgotten that the whole point of Ginny being here was to do exactly _this_. To learn more about her and, thus, to hopefully gain more insight on Bill. The past few days had been such a sleep-deprived blur that Draco hadn’t accomplished anything when it came to the curse breakers’ contract. He fidgeted in his seat but Ginny didn’t seem to notice. She continued rambling on.

“—thinking about bringing him by but I wasn’t sure. It might be good for Mouse, though.”

Ginny turned and their eyes met. She seemed to be waiting for him to respond. Draco blinked, trying to remember what she had been saying before his thoughts wandered. He had no idea. Instead of admitting that, Draco nodded. 

“You’d be okay with that?” Ginny asked, surprised.

Probably not, whatever “that” was, but he couldn’t back down now. If it ended up being her idiot brother or Potter coming by, Draco would drown himself in the pond out back.

“As okay as I am with this arrangement,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t seem bothered. It didn’t take long for her to finish giving Mouse his medicine. 

~*~

Tea. Scones. A mental list of things to talk about. 

Draco was ready.

He cursed under his breath, his leg tapping impatiently, as he waited for Ginny to arrive. After their time together yesterday, Draco realized he needed to get a move on with learning more about Ginny and her family. The longer this process took, the more pressure the goblins would put on him about the contract. So, for the first time ever, Draco followed Gregory’s example and had the house-elves get some tea and light food ready for when Ginny showed up.

Draco had spent the better part of the day trying to figure out what to talk to her about. Had he ever had a real conversation with the woman before, one where neither one of them insulted the other? He honestly wasn’t sure. Now, he had a list of topics ready in case the conversation ever paused and seemed awkward. 

“—very nice today Goyle, going on a date?”

Draco glanced over at the doorway as Ginny walked through it, grinning. Gregory said something in return but Draco wasn’t sure what it was; Ginny giggled in response. Automatically, she went directly to the table of potions by the hearth. Mouse stopped playing with Draco’s shoelaces—somehow the creature managed to untie them and, Draco swore, tie them back up again—and bolted towards Ginny, meowing happily as she reached out to pet him. 

She hadn’t even noticed Draco wasn’t at his desk! Did she truly pay him that little mind? Draco breathed in sharply, annoyed. Ginny’s back was to him and the barely used sitting area. He didn’t often entertain guests in his study, so she should feel honored that he had this all set up for her! After a long moment wherein Draco became increasingly incensed, he pointedly cleared his throat.

Ginny shrieked, whipping around completely. She stared at him before letting out a shaky laugh. 

“Merlin, Malfoy, do you often sit in the shadows?”

“I’m not in the shadows,” he said, fighting hard to keep his tone light. “Do you find yourself comfortable enough now to enter my study without me in it?”

She shrugged.

“I thought you were working late again. Mouse still needs his potions, whether you’re here or not.”

His hand twitched where it lay on his lap. She hadn’t even noticed the spread on the table. Still cooing at Mouse as she fed him, Ginny’s interest in the conversation had diminished. Draco shifted on the couch as he looked her over. She wasn’t in her normal wizarding attire. In fact, if Draco didn’t know better, he’d assume she was about to go flying. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she wore old trainers, ratty shorts, and a Holyhead Harpies shirt that looked like it had been given to her when she first joined the team ages ago. Either she was getting far too relaxed coming to the manor or she was going to leave there and go flying. Draco’s heart thudded at the idea of it. It had been years since he had flown. His eyes closed briefly, recalling the rush of adrenaline as he ascended into the sky. 

“He’s getting chubby, isn’t he?”

Draco’s eyes opened to find Ginny standing. She was smiling down at Mouse. Then, she turned her attention to Draco. 

“The potions seem to be working,” she continued, starting to head towards the exit. 

“Wait, Weasl—Gin—” Her name seemed to choke him as he rushed to his feet. He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat as she stopped in surprise. “I thought—rather, I had assumed—”  
Draco waved helplessly at the teapot and scones. Ginny blinked in surprise. She looked at the setup before her gaze met Draco’s once more. He cleared his throat again.

“You’re going flying?” he asked. 

She continued studying him before finally nodding. 

“Yeah. You can tell?” Ginny looked down at herself, only a little self-conscious. Her cheeks flushed. “I still meet up with some of my teammates and friends during the offseason. We get together every couple of weeks. Do you still fly?”

A flash of the last time he had flown came to mind—his sixth year, after crying to Myrtle in the girls’ bathroom, realizing he was going to _fail_ , and, for the first time ever, flying hadn’t brought him any joy, only the realization that no matter how hard he tried to reach the stars and escape, he’d never be able to. He’d stopped playing Quidditch after that. His broom had sat unused in his dormitory until the end of the schoolyear. The Dark Lord had taken yet another thing away from him.

Draco forced the memory away.

“Why? Are you going to invite me to hang out with you and you friends?” he drawled, a single eyebrow lifting.

Her face reddened more, but she was watching him curiously. Then, with determination burning in her eyes, she started to speak. Draco cut her off.

“Go on, then. Don’t keep them waiting. The last thing I’d want is for the Ministry to come looking for you here.”

Whatever she had been about to say died on her lips. Draco turned away from her, ready to sit again, and saw that Mouse had taken over his seat. Moving the kitten onto the next cushion, Draco took the time to carefully pour himself a cup of tea before looking back to Ginny. 

She had already left.

~*~

Ginny’s letter arrived early in the morning. Her owl had no etiquette. Most owls knew to arrive downstairs so that a house-elf could collect the post. Ginny’s owl knocked on Draco’s bedroom window for a good five minutes before Draco finally awoke, huffing and snarling. 

What Ginny had written annoyed Draco further: She wouldn’t be able to visit to give Mouse his potion but she had already reached out to Gregory for help. Draco stomped down to the kitchen, where Gregory was finishing up the last of his food, only half-heartedly looking over the _Daily Prophet_.

“You agreed to help her?”

Gregory looked up at Draco’s voice, his eyes still heavy with sleep. Draco waved his wand as he waited for Gregory to answer and the pot of coffee that the house-elves had started for him tilted, pouring the steaming liquid into a mug that had drifted from a cabinet. He refrained from tapping his foot impatiently.

“You can’t expect her to dedicate every day of her life to this. Or do you?”

“She’s the one who stepped on Mouse’s tail,” Draco said, grabbing the mug from midair as it floated to him. “What reason did you she give you?”

“Her mum announced sudden dinner plans,” Gregory replied with a shrug. 

Damn. She had written the same thing to Draco. Huffing, he took a long sip of coffee. It burnt his tongue but Draco didn’t mind. The caffeine raced through his system, calming him. He eyed Gregory.

“Don’t worry about Mouse. I’ll take care of him.”

Gregory glanced over, surprised.

“You sure, Draco?”

Draco nodded.

“He’s my charge, isn’t he?” Draco asked, sighing. 

“Where is Mouse, anyway?”

“He spent most of the night knocking over all the books on my shelf so I’m sure he’s tired himself out. Still sleeping on my bed.”

Gregory chuckled deep in his chest and Draco let his lips lift in a slight smirk. 

~*~

The next day, Ginny sat on the couch he had sat on two days ago, feeding Mouse his potions there. Her legs were crossed under her; Narcissa would pass to the afterlife instantly if she ever saw Ginny’s feet on her precious furniture. But Ginny looked comfortable, at ease, and Draco didn’t feel like berating her at the moment. She had arrived as promised, apologized for her absence the day before, and told him that her brother’s wife was pregnant and they had wanted everyone at dinner to announce the sex. 

If Ginny noticed that there was no tea and scones set out today, she didn’t say anything. 

Draco skimmed over the reports in front of him, but his attention continued to drift back to Ginny and Mouse. Finally, bored by the silence between them, Draco opened his mouth to speak. Ginny beat him to it.

“Hermione says you’ll need to bring Mouse to the Ministry within the next four days or she’s going to have to fine you.”

Draco blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Ginny looked at him, grinning slightly. 

“Sorry. At dinner last night she mentioned it. Hermione knows I’ve been coming here for a bit now and told me she doesn’t want to fine you but that you need to get Mouse registered.”

“What does Granger have to do with anything?” Draco asked, frowning.

“She works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” Ginny informed him. “She worries mostly about house-elves and their rights—”

“Of course she does.” 

“—which, by the way, you might want to pay attention to. Soon enough, you’re going to have to pay your house-elves and give them vacation time—”

“Vacation time!”

“—but she also says if Mouse is a purebred Kneazle, then he needs to be registered right away. The Ministry prefers to keep track of them.”

Ugh, he had forgotten the owner of Magical Menagerie had told him this already. It had been more than a week since she had reported to the Ministry that he had a Kneazle. Great. Now he had to go to the bloody Ministry or get fined. They’d probably double it, knowing who it was for. For fuck’s sake, that was the _last_ place he wanted to go. Malfoys weren’t viewed very highly by the Ministry anymore. The idea of going to a place that his ancestors had once controlled but which was now full of people who viewed Draco and his parents as scum made his mouth go dry. Even now, years after the war, he was being punished.

Draco ran a hand down his face, allowing his eyes to close as his mind whirled. He knew these were the consequences for his actions when he was at Hogwarts, but that didn’t make it any easier. Pansy and Gregory would likely be more anxious than him if he mentioned he had to go to the Ministry. There was no way he was mentioning this to his mother. She’d come back from France right away, if only to make sure Aurors didn’t arrest him on sight.

Groaning softly, Draco opened his eyes and started. Ginny was watching him from her spot on the couch, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Let Granger know I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said, to break the silence.

Ginny nodded but said nothing.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

“An alley? In Diagon Alley?”

“That’s what I said, Granger. Do you require that I repeat everything to you twice before you understand it?”

“I’m simply clarifying.” Her words were clipped with annoyance. “We received notice of the Kneazle in your possession over a week ago. You should’ve been fined already.”

“Yes, yes, as if the Ministry hasn’t taken enough of my money already.”

Draco waved his hand lazily at her and saw her face redden. It had been years since Draco was forced into Granger’s company, and he hadn’t missed a second of it. As if coming to the Ministry wasn’t painful enough, having to sit before Granger and explain to her where he found Mouse was enough to make him want to _Avada Kedavra_ himself. Mouse, however, seemed to have no issue with the witch, for he was currently curled on her lap, watching her as she wrote on the parchment in front of her.

Traitor.

“Specifically, where did you find him? Near which shop?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Draco deliberated for a long moment before shrugging. Knockturn Alley, Pansy had said. As if Draco was stupid enough to repeat that.

“I’m not sure. I was rushing home from work when I spotted him. I immediately took him in. I simply couldn’t leave him out there to starve.”

“Malfoy,” she warned, eyes narrowing.

“There were plenty of people who must’ve walked by him. Horrible, those people are. Truly. If I hadn’t spotted Mouse…”

“This is serious, Malfoy,” Granger snapped. “Kneazles are highly intelligent creatures. They have a knack for detecting suspicious and untrustworthy people—”

“Ironic, really.”

Granger paused at his interjection. 

“Ironic how?”

“Since he’s cuddled up with you,” Draco explained. “I’d have thought he’d know better. I can’t fault him, I suppose. He’s still so young.”

Draco resisted the urge to cackle as Granger’s face reddened further. It was clear from how tightly she gripped her quill that he was getting to her. Good. She had bothered him enough throughout their time at Hogwarts by shoving her nose into his business that coming to her place of work and annoying her back seemed only fair. Leaning forward, Draco cocked his head, ready to continue bothering her.

“Ignore him, Hermione. He’s only upset that he has to follow Ministry protocol for once.”

Draco froze in surprise before turning in his chair. Leaning in the doorway, eyes twinkling, was Ginny. He wondered how much she had heard, for she seemed more amused than angry. When their eyes met, one of his eyebrows lifted in question.

“Fancy seeing you here, Draco,” Ginny said, stepping into the office. “I had assumed you’d rather deal with the fine than come out of your hole.”

He tilted his head.

“I’d rather the Ministry not show up at my front door.” 

“I would’ve thought you were used to that by now,” Granger said under her breath.

Draco heard her, his head whipping around as a pink tint colored his cheeks.

Ginny walked behind Granger’s desk, apparently deaf to Granger’s insult, to pet Mouse. Granger lifted Mouse from her lap and handed him to Ginny. Mouse purred happily and Draco scowled.

“Are we done yet?” Draco asked. “Or do you have more questions about where I found him? Perhaps what color the cobblestone was that he was sitting on?”

A grin tugged at Ginny’s lips as Granger glowered at him.

“If someone is breeding Kneazles and abandoning them in highly populated areas, there could be severe consequences for the kittens being left behind. It also shows that the breeders are extremely irresponsible and—”

“That’s not what I asked,” Draco cut in smoothly. “May I leave?”

Granger blinked before opening her mouth. Draco knew she was about to spew another long rant about Kneazles and breeders and how perfect the Ministry was and all of their rules and functions. Draco’s eyes flitted away from Granger to meet Ginny’s. She had let Mouse perch himself on her shoulders again but was watching Draco. Before Granger could say anything else, Ginny leaned down and wrapped her arm around Hermione’s shoulders, hugging her quickly.

“I’ll show him out, Hermione, unless you do need something else? Ron and Harry said they’d meet you at that Muggle pub you always go to for lunch.”

“Lunch? It can’t possibly be…” Granger frowned when she looked at her wristwatch. “Well, it is lunchtime. I’ll get this paperwork filed by the end of the day for you, Malfoy.”

“So very—”

“Perfect, thank you,” Ginny interrupted Draco’s insult, heading towards the exit. “Come on, Draco. I’ll treat you to some ice cream.”

Ice cream? Draco stood, grabbing the carrier that he had brought Mouse in, and followed Ginny out of the tiny office. He sniffed in displeasure when he saw that Ginny was heading towards the elevators, with seemingly no plans to wait for him. The elevators dinged as they opened and he stepped in behind her. There were only three other people in the small space, each distracted by a newspaper or various documents.

Draco glanced down at Ginny, annoyed. 

“Ice cream? Do I look like a child?”

Ginny intently looked him over. Then, she shrugged. 

“Only when you get that snooty look on your face.” 

Draco’s face cleared of emotion and she started giggling. 

“I do not get a _snooty_ look on my face.”

“I’d argue otherwise. Either way, I adore Hermione—she’s basically my sister—but she can certainly talk, especially when it comes to work. You could’ve been stuck in there another half hour before she realized that her lunch break was halfway over.” The elevator rocked as it stopped at Level 5. Two people got off. “So, really, you’re welcome for the rescue.”

“Rescue?” Draco scoffed. “I rather viewed it as you stalking me. Or do you often end up in Granger’s office in the middle of the day when you don’t work at the Ministry?”

“My dad and Ron work on Level 1, Hermione works on Level 4, and Percy works on Level 6. I’m meeting one of them for lunch almost every other day, I feel like.”

Draco looked her over as she spoke. She wasn’t wearing the silver badge like Draco had been forced to (with _Draco Malfoy, Kneazle Registration_ written across it). And there was something about the way she was dressed so casually, in contrast to every other witch and wizard in the building, that reinforced that she didn’t work at the Ministry and had no real business there.

“I forgot the Weasleys were running the Ministry now,” he said, frowning.

“Working here isn’t exactly _running_ it,” Ginny replied lightly. “I’d say your dad had a much tighter grasp here before everything happened than my dad ever will.”

Before everything happened. Before the war, before Azkaban, before the Malfoy name meant absolutely nothing, she meant.

The implication of her words hung in the air between them but, surprisingly, Draco wasn’t offended. Ginny had a way of saying things so _nonchalantly_ , presenting them without the heavy accusations most people did, that Draco found it hard to actually care. He’d fought with Ginny before and they had said harsh things to each other; he felt like he knew when she was actually judging him versus when she was simply stating a fact.

The remainder of the elevator ride went by in silence. At each level several people would enter the lift until, at Level 8, the elevator was so full that Draco felt claustrophobic. He was glad that Ginny had a hold of Mouse. At the moment, he was reminding himself that pushing people out of the way to escape the confines of the small space was not appropriate. His mother certainly wouldn’t approve. When they did finally leave, Ginny helped put Mouse into the small crate Draco carried. People bustled around them, hardly bothered.

“He’s growing so fast,” Ginny noticed. “This cage couldn’t have always been too small for him, right?”

Draco looked at it. Mouse certainly took up more space now than before. His large, brown eyes stared back at Draco. 

“I suppose he did grow a bit.”

“Ice cream at Florean’s, then?”

Surprise hit Draco and he looked away from Mouse, feeling the weight of Ginny’s stare. She had really wanted to get ice cream? The idea of it was so ludicrous that Draco almost laughed aloud.

“We’re not getting ice cream together,” Draco informed her as he started to walk towards the line of fireplaces at the opposite side of the room.

Ginny raced to catch up with him; his legs were much longer than her own and it wasn’t hard to put distance between them. He heard her huff when she finally reached his side.

“Why not?”

Stupid question. They weren’t friends. Draco didn’t even get ice cream with his real friends. And there was no reason for Draco to go out in public with Ginny if he could avoid it. He frowned. 

“I come to your manor everyday to take care of Mouse—”

“Please, lower your voice. I don’t want people to know that.”

“—and come to your rescue when you’re trying to escape Hermione—”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

“—but getting ice cream together crosses some line?”

Draco stopped walking abruptly. Ginny stumbled to a stop beside him. Her stare was hard, blazing, as she looked up at him. For a moment, he was so taken aback by the sight of it that he was speechless. Then, he cleared his throat.

“Why do you want to so badly?” Draco asked.

She bit her bottom lip as he spoke and Draco’s eyes flickered to it, noticing the movement. When he looked back up, she seemed to have come to some sort of resolution, for her whole demeanor changed. 

“Look, I don’t really—there’s—I think there’s something more to you than I thought before.”

What? 

Draco was afraid he couldn’t look away from her then even if he wanted to. It was clear she was having trouble expressing herself clearly, for she crossed her arms over her chest in frustration before letting out a long breath. The pieces of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes fluttered with the rush of air.

“When you’re not insulting everything and everyone around you, you can seem, I don’t know…”

Charming? Appealing? Friendly? Any of the answers terrified him so he waited, unsure of what to say or do.

“Normal.”

“Normal,” Draco repeated slowly.

She grinned cheekily at him.

“Yeah. Normal. Where before I thought you were a giant git, I’ve come to realize you’re only a normal-sized git.”

He blinked.

“Come on, don’t be a sourpuss. We can Floo into the Leaky Cauldron.”

Ginny started walking again, still chattering about ice cream, and Draco followed her silently. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t fighting harder against going with her, except that her words surprised him.

_“I think there’s something more to you than I thought before.”_

~*~

“Have you ever been called normal before?” Draco asked dramatically as he threw himself on the couch.

When he was greeted with only silence, Draco lifted himself up on his elbow, looking around the room. Goyle had walked into the kitchen as soon as they entered the flat. He had been talking about cooking some new recipe he had been studying all day. Theo was muttering to himself as he read over parchment long enough that it touched the ground; he stood by the window, using the natural light, looking rather ready to tear his hair from his scalp. Pansy hadn’t stopped reading the _Daily Prophet_ , yet Draco knew she didn’t usually read the newspaper. She hated reading. His temper flared.

“Pansy!” he snapped.

She waited a long beat before her eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Oh Draco, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized you’d arrived,” she said, folding the paper and tossing it onto the table beside her. 

Draco scowled. He laid back on the couch and studied her ceiling furiously, noticing that some of the paint was discolored and yellowish. Did it leak there when it rained? If it did, Pansy had purposely kept that information from him. She’d need to get that fixed—

“I’m afraid I’ve never had the pleasure of being called _normal_.” Pansy’s face appeared in his view and he sat up, making room for her to sit down. “Who would call you such a thing?” 

“Weasley,” he muttered. 

Saying her name made his stomach clench. 

“Excuse me?” Pansy said, eyebrows knitting. “I couldn’t hear you over your moping.”

“I said,” Draco gritted out, teeth clenched. “Weasley. She’s a menace.”

“A menace that you ask to come to the manor practically every day.” 

More than just the manor now. They had met at the Ministry and then gone for ice cream. Ice cream had turned into a visit to Magical Menagerie to get Mouse properly checked out by the owner. (“He’s growing fast and his tail is almost completely healed!”). Magical Menagerie had led to Ginny Apparating back to the manor after Draco to give Mouse some of his potions. By the time she left, Draco was utterly exhausted. He allowed Mouse to nap on his bed before he headed over to Theo and Pansy’s flat to complain.

Draco found he was having trouble getting Ginny’s voice out of his head and he wasn’t sure why. He chose to be angry over being called _normal_ rather than analyzing his mixed feelings.

“Talk to me, Draco,” Pansy said, reaching over and pushing a stray piece of hair from his face. “You seem upset.”

“He’s always upset,” Theo volunteered from the window.

Draco glared at the man but Theo didn’t seem to notice, still looking over his parchment.

“Being upset and being dramatic are two different things, to be fair,” she said.

“I am not dramatic. Or upset. You’re the one brooding by the window, Nott,” Draco pointed out.

Theo rolled his eyes. Draco tilted his head back so that he was staring at the yellow spot on the ceiling again. 

“I like her.”

Draco twisted in his seat to see Gregory walking in from the kitchen, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of celery. Pansy made a noise in her throat.

“You like Weasley?” Pansy questioned. “Really, Gregory?”

“They’ve been the best of friends this past week,” Draco said, though he was watching Gregory with interest.

“She’s nice,” Gregory said. “And funny. And I think she likes spending time with Draco at the manor. Hardly anyone likes doing that.”

Draco jolted, turning around fully to stare at Gregory. Gregory, however, didn’t seem to notice the importance of what he’d said. Pansy looked between the two men in surprise. Even Theo had stopped what he was doing to watch.

“What?” was all Draco managed to say.

“Why do you think that?” 

Gregory shrugged at Pansy’s question. 

“If she didn’t, she wouldn’t still be coming by, would she? Ginny isn’t the type of person to do something just because someone tells her to do it.”

“Rather knowledgeable about her, aren’t you?” Theo drawled.

“Every Weasley is like that, Theo, shut up,” Pansy said, waving her hand in his direction to silence him. She pursed her lips. “What Gregory says is true. Apparently, someone other than us finds your company enjoyable, Draco. Shocking, really.”

Draco was barely listening to Pansy, his mind racing. His friends continued the conversation without him.

“Isn’t she dating Potter?”

“No, she said they broke up.”

“I read they were engaged.”

“Gossip, I’m sure. Especially if you read it, Pansy.”

“I told you, Ginny said they broke up. Didn’t seem like they were engaged.”

“She told you that?”

“She mentioned it when we had tea the other day.”

“Hear that, Malfoy? Gregory is having tea with your girlfriend!”

Draco scowled at Theo.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“You’ve gone on far more dates with her than you have with anyone else in the past five years.”

“Astoria doesn’t count,” Gregory butted in before Draco could speak.

His cheeks felt like they were getting warm under his friends’ scrutiny. Clearing his face of emotion, Draco inhaled through his nose. 

“I have not gone on any dates with her,” he told Pansy. 

“I beg to differ,” she replied. “She’s been to your house every day for over a week.”

“Visiting someone is not a date, if my memory serves me correctly.”

Theo snickered by the window. Pansy was smirking at Draco.

“What did you do to today, then?”

Ministry of Magic. Florean’s Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlor. Magical Menagerie. Malfoy Manor.

“Nothing,” Draco said, far more quickly than he should have.

“Liar,” Theo hissed, amused. 

“This conversation is utterly pointless. A waste of my time. I feel stupider now for having been part of this.” Draco jumped to his feet and headed towards the door. Neither Pansy nor Theo had had the Floo network set up in their flat, paranoid buggers. “My appetite is gone.”

“You’re going to miss dinner?” Gregory questioned, shocked. “I’ve been wanting to cook this for you all for ages now.”

Draco sniffed, lifting his chin—which was a mistake, for he could smell the scent of something delicious wafting in from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, but thankfully not too loudly. Pansy sighed.

“We’ll stop teasing, Draco, come sit down. You’re always so cranky when you’re hungry.”

He didn’t want to sit. But Theo had turned his attention back to whatever he had been reading before. Gregory’s eyes were wide and pleading as he waited by the kitchen. Pansy was looking at her nails, already bored. And Draco was hungry. Sweets could only hold him over for so long, and it already felt like that ice cream had been hours ago. 

“I am not cranky,” he said, walking back to the couch and sitting.

“Yes, yes, Draco, we know.”

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Life got a little crazy!


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, I brought him.”

Draco looked up from his paperwork as Ginny shuffled into his study. It had been a week since his horrible friends had planted the idea in his head that Ginny liked him. He had discredited it rather quickly, if only because there was nothing _different_ about her other than the fact that she was kinder to him now than she had been before. And that was what he had wanted: become her friend, learn about her family, pick her brain, figure out how to get her brother to sign the stupid contract. 

The reminder of the contract gave Draco a headache; the goblins weren’t happy, and Bill hadn’t yet responded to any of the owls he’d sent bearing multiple revised versions of his offer. Draco desperately wanted to talk to Ginny about it, but she’d probably hex him if she thought he was using her to help him.

Ginny groaned, capturing Draco’s attention again. She was carrying something large and orange in her hands that seemed to be attacking her, if the pained expression on her face was any indication. Before he realized what he was doing, Draco was striding over to her, curiosity painted on his face.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you bringing… whatever this is into my home,” Draco drawled, peering at the thing in her arms.

It wasn’t until the thing meowed loudly and pushed away from Ginny, landing squarely on its feet, that Draco realize what it was. Another cat. His eyes met Ginny’s, curses ready to leave his lips, but she was holding her hands up, as though he were a crazed animal and she were trying to keep him calm.

“You told me I could bring him. Remember?” she asked. “Crookshanks. Hermione’s cat.”

“You brought Granger’s cat here?” Draco choked out. 

His head whipped around, looking for the large cat, but he was no longer in the spot where Ginny had dropped him. No, Crookshanks, the beast, was heading towards Mouse, who was staring from the top of Draco’s desk with interest. Worry made Draco’s heart race and he ran towards Mouse, putting himself directly in between both cats.

“I did not tell you to bring that monster here!”

“Yeah, you did!” Ginny insisted, hurrying over also. “It was a while ago, but I asked you and you said ‘sure’ and I asked if you were definitely okay with it and you said as okay as you were with this arrangement.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he thought back. That conversation _did_ sound somewhat familiar. 

Crookshanks continued to saunter over to Draco’s desk with little worry. He was an older cat, marked by white hairs around his face and a slower walk, but there was something oddly familiar in his ears and tail. It clicked after a long second and Draco’s lips pressed together.

“The cat is a Kneazle, isn’t it?” he asked warily.

“Half-Kneazle, actually,” Ginny clarified, grinning once she saw the tension leave Draco. “I thought it’d be good for Mouse to have a friend to play with.”

“Mouse is almost as large as that thing,” Draco said, waving his hand at Crookshanks.

It was insane, really, how quickly Mouse was growing.

He didn’t like the idea of something that lived with Granger and Ginny’s moron brother being in his manor. He realized that once more he was allowing the manor to be stained by people his ancestors would hate. Draco could barely stop himself from grumbling, instead moving to the side so that the two cats could interact. 

Mouse jumped down from the desktop, ears twitching as he sniffed the air. Crookshanks didn’t seem quite as intrigued, though he continued advancing towards the kitten. Then, in the blink of an eye, both animals took off, darting around the study. Mouse was much faster than Crookshanks, jumping from the couch to the windowsill to the fireplace mantel back to the ground before Crookshanks could even attempt to jump from the couch. But Crookshanks didn’t seem to mind, and Mouse was meowing so much it seemed like he was trying to have a conversation.

Ginny walked up to Draco and her arm brushed his. 

“It took ages to convince Hermione to let me take him,” Ginny told him. “Then it took even longer to convince Ron. Ron was being a prat, though. He works right now, so it’s not as though he sees Crookshanks anyway.”

Draco nodded, for lack of anything else to say. He wasn’t certain how to respond to Ginny speaking to him so intimately about her family.

“You should show me your room.”

Draco’s face warmed instantly as he froze. What had she just asked him? Turning his head slightly, he tried to gauge Ginny’s expression, but she was now laughing at Crookshanks and Mouse; Mouse was running circles around Crookshanks, who looked mildly bored. She wanted to see his room? That would be completely inappropriate!

Right?

Feeling rather like he was still the same teenager who had first taken Astoria on a tour of the house and snogged her messily in front of his bedroom because he was too scared to bring her into the actual room, Draco tried to force his nerves away. Suddenly, he found that he wanted to show Ginny his bedroom. He wanted to hear the quick joke she’d make as her eyes skimmed it, he wanted to see the large smile she’d wear as she explored his belongings, teasing him about—

For fuck’s sake, was he actually contemplating her request?

“Or the gardens. Anything, really,” Ginny said, turning her attention back to him. She was wearing the large smile he had imagined. “All I see is the foyer, this study, or your kitchen. I know there are other rooms here, Draco.”

Disappointment and relief hit him at the same time. He raised an eyebrow. 

“What gives you that idea?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“A lucky guess,” she replied sarcastically. 

His lips quirked up in a smirk that she seemed to notice. Ginny knocked elbows with him.

“Come on. I let myself get nearly clawed to death trying to bring Crookshanks here, after getting berated by Ron. You owe me. Let me see the famous Malfoy gardens. Or, maybe if I’m lucky enough, I’ll get to look at the loo. Exactly how normal _are_ the Malfoys? Is it possible you use the loo like all us normal folks?”

“You sound like that wench Rita Skeeter.”

Ginny giggled into her hand, her eyes twinkling. 

“I’ll give her all the inside details,” she promised. “The towel holder will probably be made of pure gold. The toilet will be encrusted with diamonds. A house-elf is probably in there, waiting, forced to hold the toilet paper until you’re done—”

“Classy, Weasley,” Draco said, heading towards the exit.

He heard her following behind him. Without much thought, he turned left. She came up alongside him, pulling her hair back in a haphazard bun. Draco’s eyes flicked down to her, trailing over the red of her hair and the quick movement of her fingers. Then Ginny was done, and she was looking back up at him.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The dungeons,” he joked. 

It was only when her step faltered that he realized his mistake. Ah, she had mentioned something about one of her friend’s being locked in the dungeons during the war. It must’ve been Loony Lovegood. Draco had been forced to spend more time than he wanted with the girl, the goblin, and the wandmaker back then; it was the only time in his life staying down in the dungeons was less scary than being anywhere else in the house.

“I—”

“That’s not something to joke about,” she said, interrupting him.

But Ginny wasn’t scolding him; she simply seemed sad at the reminder of the manor’s history. Draco’s fists tightened at his side. It was stupid, really, to have made that joke. They continued walking in silence. They reached the doors that led outside and with a wave of his hand they opened, pulled by magic. He lifted his arm, inviting her to go through the doorway first. Her eyes met his before she stepped outside.

A meow alerted Draco that Mouse was behind him. Looking over his shoulder as he followed Ginny out, he saw that Mouse and Crookshanks were following on their heels. He looked ahead again but not quickly enough; he had to reach up and grab onto Ginny’s shoulders in order to avoid slamming into her. She didn’t seem to mind, however; she must’ve stopped walking in surprise. Her attention was on the gardens before her.

Narcissa had worked on the gardens very diligently when she had still been at the manor. Now they had taken over most of the yard, a slightly organized mess that would make his mother scream in horror. Draco found he rather enjoyed it. For so much of his childhood, he had watched his mother and the house-elves trimming the flowers and pruning the shrubs. It seemed to have been the only thing his mother could truly control; Draco was glad to see it had gone wild.

Realizing he was still holding onto Ginny’s shoulders, he dropped his hands. As he did so, he managed to sneak a look at her face. Her eyes were wide, her jaw dropped, her cheeks pink. She must’ve felt his gaze on her for she looked up excitedly.

“Draco,” she breathed. “This is beautiful.”

The tension he had felt since making his stupid joke melted away. A small smile lifted his lips and he nodded towards the table where he often had breakfast with Pansy and Gregory. Ginny happily walked over to it, laughing as she took a seat. Mouse and Crookshanks darted towards the bushes, ready to explore.

“Merlin, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ginny told him, her gaze on the gardens again.

Draco let himself look her over, taking in her pure excitement. Her legs were bouncing, as if she were barely refraining from running through the florae, and her hands were twisting in her lap. He took note of the lovely flush that had spread underneath her freckles and the stray pieces of hair that had fallen from her bun. Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Then he glanced out at the gardens again. He made a sound of agreement in his throat. 

“My mum would be rather jealous,” she continued. “She always wanted a big garden but having to raise all of us didn’t really give her the chance to tend to it, except to keep the gnomes from destroying it.”

Draco’s nose scrunched. There had been a garden gnome infestation in his mother’s garden for about thirty-six hours before his father had dealt with it. His mother hadn’t allowed him to go outside to see how his father dealt with it, but the fact that the gnomes never came back gave him some clue. He opted not to mention this to Ginny, as she seemed content to look at the flowers and reminisce about her own childhood.

“After we tossed the garden gnomes over the fence, my mum would let my brothers go flying. Percy usually hung back with me and her and helped cook.”

“Your mother didn’t let you fly?” Draco questioned, surprised.

Ginny gave him a mischievous smile that he wasn’t sure he had seen before. He found himself leaning forward slightly to hear what she had to say.

“They didn’t want me hurting myself. I taught myself to fly when they weren’t paying attention. As if I’d break more easily than the boys. Percy _hated_ flying, he always cried when he fell, but he was still allowed to fly when he wanted. It wasn’t ‘til I got on the Quidditch team at Hogwarts that my parents had to deal with my new hobby.” She paused. “You used to fly.”

It was a statement, an observation, not a question. Draco tensed, but he nodded. This was the second time in a long while that he had thought of flying and he found he didn’t really like it. The memories that came with the subject made him feel oddly lost—or, rather, that he had lost something very dear to him. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Yes.”

“Do you still?” she asked.

Draco knew, deep inside, that if Ginny didn’t want to talk to him, she would’ve left already. Bringing Crookshanks here didn’t mean she had to ask him to show her the manor. If she didn’t want to talk to him, she wouldn’t be waiting for his answer quietly. She wouldn’t have breached the subject once more. For some reason, Ginny was curious about it. 

She was the first person to ever ask him about flying, really. His parents hadn’t noticed when he had stopped playing Quidditch; there were far more important things happening. And his friends had been frightened themselves, by what Draco was doing in his spare time and what they were supposed to think of it. So they had never asked him. But Ginny had. Again.

Oddly, that comforted him and the words, truthful and low, spilled from his lips. 

“I stopped at Hogwarts. There was… a lot going on my last few years there.”

He could feel her eyes on him, but he found it easier to keep his gaze outward, scanning over the yard. Briefly, Draco wondered what Ginny saw as she studied him. Was the reminder of their last few years at Hogwarts a taboo of some sort? Should he not have mentioned it?

“Flying has always been a way for me to forget about all my troubles,” Ginny said softly. “At least until my feet hit the ground again.”

He understood what she was trying to ask—did he not find the same solace in flying? 

“It used to be the same for me. But then it felt as tainted as everything else did back then. I stopped finding… joy in it. Maybe it was because it was wrong to spoil the tranquility that flying allowed me when I was—was doing horrible things.” The words seemed to catch painfully in his throat and he tried to swallow around them. When he looked back at her, there was no judgement on her face. “I didn’t deserve the calm it offered.”

“And you still don’t?”

His lifted his eyebrows in confusion at her question.

“Deserve the calm flying gives you,” she elaborated.

She was gnawing on her bottom lip gently, her chin in her hand, as she awaited his answer. What was he supposed to say? That she was the first person out of his core group of friends to talk to him willingly, without venom in her voice? That everyone else had made him, and every other child whose parents had been on the wrong side of the war, feel like they would never deserve peace or quiet or comfort again? Ginny didn’t understand the constant punishment that came from having followed in his father’s footsteps.

Did he deserve calm again? He wasn’t sure.

Thankfully, Mouse chose that moment to arrive, flower petals stuck to his fur as he mewled excitedly. Draco had a feeling Ginny had purposely allowed the conversation to drop, for she made a big fuss over picking up Mouse and pressing a kiss to his face.


	6. Chapter 6

The door to the study was open, allowing Draco to hear soft, familiar footsteps before the person came into view. He straightened in his seat and then, realizing what he had done, scowled in annoyance with himself. It was only _Weasley_. Why did he care anyway?

Perhaps because, over the last few days, he had realized how soon their forced time together was going to come to an end. Mouse was almost completely healed; his tail had straightened and now had such strength in it that when he hit Draco with it, it _stung_. It was clear the kitten was still learning his own strength, for each time that Draco yelped in surprise, Mouse would jump before rushing to Draco to apologize, his large head rubbing against Draco’s chest. Once Mouse’s potions were empty, once the month was up, Ginny had no reason to come to Malfoy Manor anymore.

The thought left Draco feeling strange. 

“I’ve got a treat for you!” Ginny called as she turned into the study. Balanced easily on the palm of her hand was a large, cardboard box. Draco stared at her, and it, uncertainly for a moment.

“What the hell have you brought into my home _now_?” 

Ginny rolled her eyes as she grinned at him. Draco’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’m taking this to the kitchen. If you or Goyle want any, it’s yours.”

Draco stood from his chair and walked after her, eyebrows furrowed. She was simply going to walk through the manor as if it were her home to drop off some box? He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea that Ginny could easily lead herself there without Draco’s direction.

Bloody woman.

“What is it?” Draco questioned again.

“Pizza.”

Draco almost stopped walking in surprise. Pizza? Pansy had made Draco try pizza once, when she was drunk and upset about her parents. She had bought the pizza pie on a whim. When Draco had arrived at her flat, she and Theo were sprawled in the living room, eating slices of it. If Pansy hadn’t been about to cry while asking him to try the food, Draco never would have.

“You—you brought pizza here?” Draco asked, his voice pitched high with annoyance. 

His ancestors were probably rolling over in their graves at this very moment. He took a deliberate look around, trying to see if the ghost of his Grandfather Abraxis had suddenly appeared. There were no ghostly apparitions, though, and he looked back at Ginny to see her shrugging as she continued on her way. Draco stalked after her, annoyed. 

“Angelina’s pregnancy cravings have her eating a pizza pie easily every day. She can’t get enough of it. When I went over for lunch today, George made me take all their leftovers. He’s getting sick of pizza. And, honestly, if _George_ is getting sick of some type of food, they’ve definitely been eating it too much. I mean, he’s on the same level as Ron when it comes to eating as much as humanly possible.”

They entered the kitchen and she slid the box onto the counter before turning to face him. She leaned against the counter casually and, for one strange moment, Draco felt that she looked as though she belonged there. Silly thought. But, still… Something warm and strange stirred deep in his belly. He inhaled sharply, hoping it would make the weird feeling go away. She grinned at him.

“Where’s Mouse?” Ginny asked.

On cue, Mouse meowed, trotting into the kitchen. Ginny squatted down to pet Mouse in greeting before looking up at Draco. His stomach did that weird thing again. For fuck’s sake, was he about to be sick?

“Are you hungry, then?” 

Draco shook his head. He _had_ been, before his stomach started acting all bubbly. The idea of eating anything right now, especially with Ginny staring at him, was vastly unappealing.

“Not everyone enjoys eating a pie of cheese,” Draco drawled.

“Don’t be daft,” Ginny replied, picking the large kitten up. Mouse nuzzled her neck. “You’ll likely finish the whole thing once I leave.”

“I beg to differ.”

“With some help from Goyle, then.”

Draco frowned and she smirked.

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “Are you going to have any?” 

He waved at the box. Draco had never invited her to stay over for a meal, unlike Gregory. Part of him hoped she’d say yes. Instead, she pressed a kiss to Mouse’s head and began heading out the kitchen. 

“I ate plenty at George and Angelina’s. If I eat any more, my coaches will have my head. Training season starts soon. I don’t want to fall off my broom, weighed down by cheese…”

Ginny was still talking and Draco’s lips twitched into a smile as he followed her back to the study.

~*~

She was flustered when she entered the study two days later. Cheeks red and eyes sharp, Ginny stomped through the doorway. Draco watched her. Instead of heading to the neatly lined potions as she normally did, Ginny flopped down on the couch, crossing her arms angrily over her chest.

One of his eyebrows lifted at the sight. She looked like a sullen child. Draco wanted to point this out to her, but feared she’d react more harshly than normal. The thought of getting hexed by Ginny was not an appealing one.

“You look like you’re in a good mood.”

Ginny looked over at him when he spoke, her eyes narrowing for a moment before she let out a long breath. It seemed to help release some of the tension in her body. Though curious about what was wrong, Draco forced his eyes away from Ginny and onto the papers in front of him. Mouse, who was lounging in Draco’s lap, stretched languorously before hopping down and approaching Ginny. He leaned against her legs happily as she pet him.

The study was silent except for Mouse’s contented purring. Ginny remained on the couch and Draco focused on what he had been doing before she entered. Lately, he had found that whenever Ginny was around, he never seemed to finish his work. His precious hours to work on pending paperwork at home after leaving Gringotts each day were now lost. It was rather annoying. 

“Sorry.”

The single word broke the silence. Draco glanced over at her. Her gaze wasn’t on him; she seemed mesmerized by Mouse, who had jumped onto the couch beside her, continuing to beg for pets. What, exactly, was she sorry for?

“It’s been a rotten day,” Ginny continued, before Draco could say anything. “My mum sort of—she expressed some concerns about my lifestyle.”

That was surprising. Draco had always assumed the matriarch of the Weasley brood viewed her children as incapable of doing any wrong. What could Ginny possibly be doing that would upset her mother?

“Did you not laugh hard enough at something Potter said? Or was it mentioned that you’ve been hiding out with me at the manor?” he drawled.

A rush of nerves hit him as he spoke. Even though he meant it as a joke, Draco had begun to wonder if there’d be consequences to how much time she spent with him now. But a smile graced her face before she bit it back. She leaned back into the couch cushions.

“Merlin no, my mum isn’t insane,” Ginny replied. “It’s just… I’m not ready to get married or settle down or—or have babies. I thought I was, you know? I think I got her hopes up a bit. Harry wanted to get married years ago and I thought I did too. But then we both realized it wasn’t right—”

“Smart move on your part. Couldn’t imagine being chained to Potter for life.”

“But my mum was ready for it. I know my mum wishes I were more like Hermione sometimes—”

“Granger?” Draco’s face scrunched. “Do you compare yourself to her often?”

Ginny stared at him, frowning. 

“Um, no. Of course not. Just something I know my mum’s thinking. Hermione has a great job, married my brother in this beautiful, fun wedding not long after school. They’re talking about having kids. It’s what my mum wishes I was doing.” 

Draco almost rolled his eyes. He picked up the parchment he had been looking over earlier, skimming it. 

“Well, I don’t think your career with the Harpies is anything to scoff at,” Draco muttered. “And it’s not your fault that Potter’s an idiot who couldn’t handle you.”

When his eyes flicked up from the paper, he realized she had been watching him, an odd look on her face. Warmth flooded his cheeks. Had he said something wrong? Ginny had never looked at him like that before. Then she blinked and stood from the couch, walking over to the potions. Mouse followed her happily, ready for his nightly medicine. 

“What about you?” she asked as she gave Mouse his potions.

Draco blinked. 

“What about me?” 

“I mean,” Ginny said, sighing, “at least I have brothers for my mum to bug. Combined, they’ve given her three grandkids--another on the way--so she’s mostly content right now. You’re an only child, though. Doesn’t your mum have some… some crazy expectations for you?”

“The only thing my mother wants is for me to not end up in a cell beside my father.”

Ginny grimaced. Draco hesitated; telling Ginny that all his mother wanted was for him to not to end up in Azkaban wasn’t the complete truth. If Ginny’s mother only wanted her daughter to settle down, then Narcissa certainly had higher expectations for Draco: Right the wrongs of the past, restore the Malfoy name to its previous glory, marry a pureblood witch, have several children who wouldn’t fail as badly as Draco had, worm his way into the Ministry again, free his father from Azkaban.

A dull ache seemed to form behind his eye and Draco rubbed his forehead. There was a reason Narcissa had fled to France, where she spent most of her time. Draco wasn’t doing what she wished quickly enough. His interest in Gringotts wasn’t something his mother quite understood. She appreciated his love of money but couldn’t comprehend why he’d want to work beside goblins and commoners rather than try to work his way up through the Ministry.

“Think you’ll be able to manage it?”

Draco stopped massaging his forehead. His eyes met hers.

“Manage what?” 

“Staying out of Azkaban.” Her lips quirked. “Or will you try to end up there just to spite her?”

“As long as you don’t tell any of your family members about the horrific things I’ve been doing at the manor, I’m sure I’ll be able to stay far away from that pit of misery.”

Ginny laughed. 

~*~

“You owe me.”

Draco stirred from his sleep at the familiar voice. Opening one eye, he saw Pansy standing beside his bed, her hands on her hips. She waited patiently for him to completely awaken. Pushing himself up, Draco stared at Pansy, confused. It wasn’t Wednesday, and she hadn’t been here when he had fallen asleep. There was also a smirk on her face—one she wore whenever she did something that Draco likely wouldn’t be pleased about.

“Hell, Pansy, it’s past midnight,” Draco groaned after glancing at his pocket watch.

Pansy’s lips stretched wider and she nodded. 

“Yes, and I’ve brought you something.”

“It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Possibly,” Pansy responded. “But I have a feeling she would’ve come to find you on her own. I didn’t want her splinching herself. I can only imagine the consequences I’d face for letting that happen.”  
It took a second to process what Pansy had said, but when he did, Draco was out of bed before he could blink.

“ _Who_ did you bring here?”

Pansy’s eyes twinkled, and Draco fought the urge to curse her. He walked around her, yanking his silk robe off the hanger, and spun around to face her angrily.

“Are you mad?” Draco hissed, pulling on the robe. “For fuck’s sake, I have to work in the morning—”

“Yes, well, apparently Weasley doesn’t,” Pansy replied sweetly. “She was wandering around Hogsmeade, rather tipsy.”

Suspicions confirmed, Draco ran his hands over his face. Any lingering sleep was gone. Adrenaline rushed through his system. Ginny was here, at the manor, drunk. Pansy was absolutely _horrible_. Once again, Draco wondered if he could trade his friends for new ones. There had to be some sort of exchange system somewhere. 

“Why would you bring her here?”

“She asked for _you_ , Draco. Once she spotted me, she came up babbling about you as though you were the dearest of friends. I’d say I was embarrassed by such a display of public drunkenness but—”

“—who are you to judge someone who is drunk in public with your own history?”

Draco couldn’t help the jab as annoyance poked him. Pansy’s gaze sharpened but she ignored what he said.

“I was going to say, I was rather envious. She desperately wanted to see you. I offered to bring her here. I thought you might want to enjoy some quality time with her.”

It had only been a few hours since Ginny had come to the manor to give Mouse his potions. She had mentioned going to Hogsmeade to see Longbottom. And, of bloody course, Pansy enjoyed frequenting the Three Broomsticks when she was in a particularly good mood. That must be how they had run into each other.

“I think I’ll take one of the spare bedrooms,” Pansy told him, amused. “Give you two some privacy.”

Draco left his bedroom without saying another word. He wanted to be annoyed—and he was, a bit. But other emotions were rushing to take over: worry, excitement, nervousness, glee. Ginny had wanted to come see him. But why? Or, perhaps she had wanted to come and see Mouse again. The kitten hadn’t woken, even with the commotion, and was still buried in Draco’s sheets. The idea that Ginny would come for Mouse, while realistic, made his stomach twist.

When he finally arrived at the study, he spotted Ginny right away. She had been laying by the hearth but turned her head when she heard him enter. She rushed to stand, a large smile on her face.

“You have such an early bedtime, Draco,” she laughed as she walked up to him.

“You’re drunk,” Draco observed, his eyes flitting over her.

Ginny blew out her cheeks.

“I am not drunk. See?”

She held out her arms and lifted a leg so that she was forced to awkwardly balance. For a moment, she swayed before finding perfect balance. 

“Yes, that proves it,” Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sober as can be, clearly.”

She giggled, and a smirk forced its way to his lips.

“Not to be rude—”

“That’s a first.”

“—but what are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s rather late, isn’t it?”

Ginny didn’t seem bothered by his questions. She shrugged happily. 

“Let’s go flying. I want to go flying with you.”

“I’d rather you not fall to your death on my property. Didn’t I tell you only a few days ago that I was trying to avoid going to Azkaban?” Draco questioned, eyeing her. When she didn’t respond, he prompted her again. “Ginny, why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” she replied easily, her voice genuine and light.

A wave of warmth washed over Draco. Other than Pansy, Gregory, and Theo, no one wanted to see Draco. Without any permission at all, his feet stepped forward, bringing him closer to Ginny. She had to tilt her head back slightly to keep eye contact with him.

“Why?”

Something passed over Ginny’s face—hesitation, perhaps—before it disappeared.

“I’ve been thinking about you. I mean—” She took a deep breath; it was clear she was trying to figure out what to say. “Percy announced his engagement to his girlfriend, Audrey, earlier at dinner and we opened some wine there to celebrate and then I met up with Neville at Hogsmeade and—it was weird, really, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much more fun I’d be having if you were there. Not that Neville isn’t fun, but I think you and I have been getting on well, haven’t we? And, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain to other people, but I tried with Neville. Neville knows me best, really, and he tried to understand. He tried telling me that I have some sort of—of crush on you, which is silly, but then I saw Parkinson and I saw it as some sort of sign and she agreed to bring me here, she was afraid I’d splinch myself if I tried to get here without help—"

“Wait, what?” Draco choked out. 

Longbottom thought Ginny had a crush on Draco? And she had told Draco that? Was he still dreaming? Trying not to be obvious, Draco pinched his forearm. It stung briefly. He definitely wasn’t dreaming. Had Pansy somehow slipped Ginny a love potion? No, no, that would be too cruel, even for her. 

“I suppose it was overstepping, just showing up like I live here. Parkinson said you and Goyle would already be in bed.”

“Have you fallen and hit your head?”

“I… I don’t think so.”

Perhaps Ginny was absolutely smashed. She didn’t look it, other than the bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and rambling a bit more than usual. Draco shook his head. Maybe he had misheard her.

“Why would you think that?” she asked, reaching up and touching her head as though to double-check that she hadn’t fallen over at some point.

“No reason,” Draco replied, unwilling to remind her of what she had just said. “Do you want me to… to take you home? Or…”

Ginny stared up at him.

“Or what?” she pressed.

His heart was racing. There was something mischievous in her gaze that made Draco feel uneasy. No, not uneasy. He wasn’t certain exactly what he was feeling. All he could think about was the fact that Ginny had been thinking about him since she left the manor. All he could think about was the fact that when she saw Pansy, someone she never spoke to, she had run up to the witch and asked about Draco.

“Come. I’ll put you in one of the extra bedrooms. One of the house-elves will bring you water.” Draco turned and started out of the study with Ginny slowly following. “Try not to go snooping through things, if you can help it. I’m not sure my mother has ever really had these rooms properly checked—”

“I think he might be right.”

Draco looked over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who?”

“Neville.” She paused. “I think he might be right.”

Draco stopped walking as though he had been hexed. Ginny stepped towards him, slowly, until she was beside him. Then she reached out, her small hand tugging at Draco’s arm so that it fell to his side. She urged him to turn so that they faced each other.

“You’re drunk,” Draco said, breath catching.

“I thought we agreed I wasn’t,” she replied softly.

The brown of her eyes was warm, comforting, happy. 

“Your balancing act proves nothing.”

She shrugged, uncaring. 

“Even if I was drunk, which I’m not, just a bit tipsy, it doesn’t change what I’m saying.” 

The urge to run, to stumble away from Ginny so he didn’t have to hear her, hit him hard. Draco swallowed thickly. He had only recently become accustomed to the idea that he enjoyed Ginny’s company, that he’d experience a loss when she stopped coming by the manor. But what she was saying now, what she was trying to tell him, meant so much more.

“Let me take you to bed,” Draco told her.

“Promise?”

His breath caught in his throat. Before he could try to explain what he had meant—that he would take her to a bed in a guest room, not his room, that she was intoxicated, so he would never… she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her hands around his neck. Where she touched him, his skin seemed to burn. Draco let her move him again, his mind seeming to detach from his body. Her breath warmed his lips as she hesitated. A part of Draco wanted to lean forward, to close the distance between them, but he found he had no control over himself.

After a second, Ginny smiled slightly before leaning forward, pressing her lips to his.

Everything went completely quiet—all of the questions and worry in Draco’s head, the ticking of the grandfather clock down the corridor, the cackle of the fire in the study. Her lips were soft, warm, familiar in a way that Draco was confused by. His body reacted then, coming back to life, and he stepped away. Ginny’s hands dropped from his neck down to his arms and she grabbed him there to stop him from moving further away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her words were loud in the quiet of the hall. “That was selfish of me. I am a bit drunk. Are you—do you care if I stay here still?”

His blood sang. His heart raced. His lips tingled. 

Draco tried to remain collected as he nodded. Silently, he led her through the foyer, up the staircase, and into one of the many empty bedrooms. When she fell onto the bed, asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, Draco left. He sat in the hall for a long while, back pressed against the cool wall, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Basic Premise: Ginny injures Draco's pet. He rants at her about it and she decides she will nurse it back to health herself. Well, he's not about to let her steal his pet, so he insists if she must take care of his animal, that she will do so at the Manor. Shenanigans ensue, they end up lovers.
> 
> Must Haves: Lots of humor.
> 
> No-no's: Non-con
> 
> Rating Range: Any
> 
> Bonus Points: The pet is not Malfoy's, it had just been following him around at the time. It was all a ploy to get Ginny to his house for a time.


End file.
